


Casual Touches Don't Always Mean Anything (Shut up, Isaac)

by roxashighwind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxashighwind/pseuds/roxashighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Allison and Stiles are trying to figure out the latest creature going bump in the night in Beacon Hills, with late night case file studies and breakfast pancakes. They accidentally end up cuddling one night and they both keep telling themselves its nothing, they shouldn't, they both love Scott more than air, but at the same time, Stiles catches himself tracing patterns on Allison's wrist and Allison holds him a little too long during hugs and things get Awkward and Difficult really fast.</p>
<p>Or: Everyone thinks they're more than they are as Stiles and Allison put their heads together to figure out (and stop) whatever's terrorizing Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casual Touches Don't Always Mean Anything (Shut up, Isaac)

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt caught me immediately, and I'm so happy that [redridinghoodandthesourwolf](http://redridinghoodandthesourwolf.tumblr.com) decided to offer it up to be selected. Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this fun pairing! I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Biggest thanks to [pilgrimkitty](http://pilgrimkitty.tumblr.com) for cheerleading for me through this whole ordeal - this is actually the second ground-up rewrite I did for this prompt and Elora cheered me on the whole time and had faith that I would finish it even when I didn't. Without Elora, this never would have gotten finished (and it wouldn't have its creature for the case part of this case!fic).

“Pass me the bestiary?” Allison asks.

Stiles hands over his iPad, the translated bestiary already up on the screen. He’s bent over a thick book with tiny text, attempting to translate it on the fly. It’s not going well.

“I think we’re dealing with some kind of fae,” Allison says after a few minutes. Her knee is pressed against Stiles’ thigh, and she’s got Stiles’ laptop on her lap. She’s got the shared Google document of the case notes open and is doing her best to compare it to something in the bestiary.

“We thought that two weeks ago. Didn’t pan out.” Stiles scribbles into a notebook, nose practically brushing against the page he’s translating. “Who has handwriting this small, seriously?”

“I still think…” She trails off, distracted as she keeps reading the bestiary entry she’d found. “Oh no.”

Stiles jolts and nearly sends the book off of his lap onto the floor. “What? What ‘oh no?’ You can’t ‘oh no’ and not explain it immediately, Argent.” He stares at her. “Why did you say that? What did you find? C’mon, don’t hold back on me now.”

She held the iPad out to him, one half of the screen black. “The iPad glitched.”

He groans. “Way to get my hopes up.” He pulls the iPad closer and locks the screen, making the whole thing go dark. “Thought you actually figured it out.” With a sigh he fiddled with the tablet until the screen came back on without the glitch. He handed it back to Allison.

“Well, I thought I’d gotten it but then the book said no.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and focuses back on his translating. “Keep looking?”

“You know it.” Allison nudges his thigh with her knee and keeps pulls the bestiary back up on the iPad.

\--

It shouldn’t be so difficult to figure out what was leaving people half dead around Beacon Hills, but it’s been almost two months of teens and coeds being found half dead on the street with no feasible explanation and not even a lead. The whole pack had thought they had something when Isaac suggested a witch sapping the life force of people around town, but Deaton had assured them that wasn’t the case.

The second suggestion of it maybe being a faerie of some sort had also fallen flat. The pack has been getting more and more twitchy, not knowing what the hell is messing with their town, their territory. Allison and Stiles have taken it upon themselves to do research almost every night, under the guise of studying for school so that Stiles’ father will allow her to stay late.

Together, Stiles and Allison plot out every place an affected person has been found. There are a lot of little dots on their map of Beacon Hills, and no one likes it. It’s hard to figure out the pattern, so they spend days going over any factor that might link the half-dead people together. Stiles gets from his dad that it might be days of the week that link them more than anything, and they start focusing on that.

\--

“You’re on my hair.”

“Am not.”

“You really are, Stiles. Oh my god, scoot over!”

“It’s my bed. Make me.”

Allison shoves him off of the bed. “That’s what you get.” She laughs and leans over the bed to look at him on the floor. “Get back up here, we’ve got more reading to do.”

They’ve got two new books to go through in hope of finding leads. Allison shifts to one side of the bed, flat on her back with the thinner of the two books held in the air. Stiles laughs and nudges her with his elbow as he settles next to her on his stomach, the other book open on his pillow with a notebook next to it.

“You’re the worst.”

“You don’t really mean that and we both know it.” Allison turns a page. “What if we never figure out what this is?”

Stiles sighs and digs around for the pen he’d been taking notes with only a minute ago. “We’ll figure it out. It’s just taking longer because it’s not as simple as witches and werewolves and faeries.” He makes a triumphant noise when he finds the pen under the book. “We’ll get it.”

“You’re surprisingly optimistic.” She turns the page again, adjusting her hold on the book and nearly dropping it on her face. “But I guess you’re right… we’ll get it eventually, we just have to keep trying.”

“That’s better! There hasn’t been an almost killing by this whatever it is in a few days, so at least that’s something.” Stiles’ hand drifts absently to the side, bumping against Allison’s shoulders. His fingers stay there, light against her t-shirt as they continue to read.

Neither seems to notice the touching, going about their reading with little comments thrown at each other when they get to something interesting. Stiles reveals that hags really suck for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the nightmares they can give to the person they’ve chosen to mess with. Allison shares that it’s not just a myth that fae will take you if you step in a faerie ring, if they believe the book (they do).

“I bet, with our luck, that whatever’s attacking town is right under our noses. We’ve probably read its entry in the bestiary, seen links to it on wikipedia or something,” sighs Stiles as he rubs a hand up his face and through his hair.

Allison hooks her ankle over one of Stiles’ with a groan. “Okay, no. We can’t think that way or we’ll never figure this out. It’s like… self sabotage or something.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’m just being realistic. Seriously, how many times has it been really complicated and then turned out to be the easiest thing ever in the end that we overlooked a half dozen times? Our luck blows.”

“Then what have we been overlooking?” She jiggles her ankle, and turns another page.

They start to pour over the books again, not discounting anything until they’d compared whatever the creature did and what they’re dealing with in town. They weren’t even a quarter of the way through the bestiary before they knocked out, falling asleep on Stiles’ bed with Stiles’ arm draped across Allison’s back and Allison’s ankle hooked over his.

Stiles’ dad wakes them the next morning with a fond roll of his eyes. “If you want breakfast, you gotta get up now.” It’s not the first time he’s come up to wake Stiles after a shift and found the two of them fully clothed on top of the covers. He’s pretty sure it won’t be the last either, but that doesn’t bother him. If there’s something going on, Stiles will tell him, or he’ll get a mysterious visit from Chris Argent to talk about their kids; it hasn’t happened yet, so there’s no need to jump the gun.

“Breakfast?” Stiles asks groggily, voice half muffled by his pillow as he rolls onto his side. Allison’s leg is still over his. “What?”

“Pancakes, fresh downstairs. You two have school in less than an hour so get on it.” He yawned as he turns around, heading toward his bedroom. “Don’t get syrup everywhere,” he calls, and they can hear the bedroom door click shut.

Stiles has to poke Allison’s shoulder a few times to get her to actually get up. “You can borrow some of my stuff, unless you brought a change of clothes?” He moves and all but falls off of his bed, shaking the bed as he barely stays on.

Allison laughs and stretches. “I’ve got a pair of pants in my backpack but not a shirt, I think.” She sits up slowly, yawning. “I’ll need to check.”

“Why do you just have pants?” He finally gets off his bed and stumbles to his dresser.

“Because I brought extra pants in case Lydia wanted to make me change out of the ones I wore to school.” Allison shrugs. She stands and goes to her bag, lifting it to dig out the pants. “Yup, jeans and no shirt. Got one I can borrow?”

“Pick one.” Stiles has grabbed everything he needs to change for school and gestures at the dresser. “Go nuts.” He waves a hand at the dresser one more time as he walks out of the door toward the bathroom.

She yawns again and pushes the door closed, tossing her change of pants onto the bed in the same move. She digs through Stiles’ drawer of t-shirts, discarding many of them without much of a look. The number of graphic tees is astounding, and she finds that she can’t quite narrow the many choices down into something to actually wear. She’s torn between a few of the graphic tees and one horizontally striped green and blue polo that is mixed in when Stiles comes back.

“Go with either Wonder Woman or Hawkeye,” he says, seeing what she’s got in her hands. “Y’know, because you’re kinda both.” He smiles, wide and easy, before grabbing his backpack and shoving his iPad inside. “Meet you downstairs.”

Allison’s cheeks warm slightly at Stiles’ easy assertion, and she nods. “Meet you there.” She waits for him to close the door before picking the simple Hawkeye shirt. She strips out of her shirt and shimmies out of her jeans before putting on the clean clothes. The purple chevron sits a little weird across her chest, because it’s not exactly designed to shape to breasts, but it’s soft and she likes the way it fits otherwise. The dark wash of her jeans works well, and she hopes that Lydia doesn’t try to make her change when she gets to school.

After pulling her hair into a messy bun, Allison grabs her bag and stuffs the dirty clothes into it. When she gets to the kitchen, Stiles is halfway through his stack of pancakes and there’s another stack set aside for her. “Didn’t think you’d save me any.”

“Everyone deserves pancakes.” Stiles pushes the syrup toward her, forkful of syrup drenched pancake most of the way toward his mouth. “Except Peter,” he adds. “Peter gets no pancakes.”

That makes her laugh, and she digs into her own stack after adding a generous amount of the syrup. They eat in mostly silence, just the sound of forks on plates breaking the comfortable quiet. It’s easy and they finish up pretty quickly. They’ve still got time before they need to head to school, and Allison offers to pay for coffee on the way if they go early; Stiles is so on board with that and he tells her so.

When they get to school, Scott and Isaac stare at them for a long time. The two werewolves don’t quite know what to make of the human pair: Allison’s bumping her shoulder against Stiles and Stiles is laughing as they make their way toward where Scott’s got his motorcycle parked after parking the Jeep further out in the school lot. Scott tries to say something, opening his mouth and closing it quickly. Isaac’s the one that actually speaks.

“Nice shirt, Alli.” He smirks, eyes flicking down to the purple chevron visible through the parted flaps of her jacket.

“You smell like Stiles.” Scott looks pained as he blurts the words, like he hadn’t wanted to say them.

Allison snorts. “Of course I do. I fell asleep at his place when we were researching, and I’m wearing one of his shirts.” Her shoulders lift and drop in a shrug and she takes another sip of her coffee.

“Dude.” Stiles throws an arm over Scott’s shoulders when he gets close enough. “We crashed at three in the morning during the middle of a cover-to-cover reread of the bestiary. We barely had time to stop for coffee this morning.” It’s obvious that Stiles feels like he might have done something wrong by letting Allison borrow his shirt, but he’s not going to apologize to appease Scott’s ruffled werewolf sensibilities, not when Scott and Allison aren’t even together.

Scott nods and laughs. “Looks better on her than you anyway.”

“Shut up.” Stiles grins and pushes Scott away.

Allison rolls her eyes and looks at the doors into the school. “The bell’s going to ring soon, we should probably head in.” The boys nod and as a group they head toward the school and their lockers. “Hey. Stiles and I think we’re getting closer to figuring out what’s going on. Anything new from patrols?”

Isaac answers. “Nothing to report, sadly. Though we saw some pretty big deer.”

Everyone laughs, and the lingering tension disappears.

\--

Three nights later a girl is found half-dead by a friend at a bar. It’s the first incident in nearly two weeks and it sets the pack, the hunters (Allison and her father), and the police on high alert. It’s a disturbing thing, the way it happens without anyone noticing. No one can figure out what’s going on and it’s driving everyone - including Stiles’ father - crazy.

“It shouldn’t be taking us so long to figure this out,” whines Scott during a pack-plus-hunters meeting. “We’re better than this!”

“We’re still looking, okay? Stiles and I are almost done going through the bestiary, and Lydia’s reading through a couple other books. Just keep patrolling.” Allison’s on the couch in Scott’s living room, Melissa next to her and Stiles on the floor leaning back against the couch between them. “We’ll get whatever’s doing this.”

“Allison has a point. Keep to the patrol schedule.” Chris doesn’t look like he wants to be there. “John’s got the sheriff’s department doing more patrols in the evenings and early morning to assist.”

Isaac speaks up. “That’s good, right? Even if they aren’t clued in to the possible supernatural element?”

“Yes. From what we know, whatever’s been attacking people doesn’t kill them, and that means that we do not have to reveal everything to them.” Chris looks at Allison again. “How much more of the bestiary do you have left to go through?”

“Half dozen creatures? Maybe a couple more than that. Like Al said, we’re almost done,” answers Stiles. His hand is resting on Allison’s ankle, fingers rubbing lightly over the inside of her ankle and along the top of her foot, drawing aimless patterns without realizing it.

Allison giggles, foot twitching. “Tickles, stop it.” She pushes his hand away, and notices everyone staring at them. She can feel her cheeks warm with an embarrassed flush and scoots more toward the arm of the couch. “It’s not going to take us more than another day or two, and hopefully we’ll find something that fits.” It takes effort, but she ignores the looks. Stiles didn’t do anything wrong, and she isn’t going to let them make it weird.

Maybe it is weird. From the way Scott, Isaac, and Chris are watching the two of them, it’s like they expect some sort of confession from them. Stiles picks at a small tear in the knee of his jeans, not looking at anyone. Allison chews on her bottom lip.

“How about I make some hot chocolate? Who wants some?”Melissa claps her hands together and gets up from the couch. She runs her hand over Stiles’ head as she moves away, heading to the kitchen. “Chris? A little help please?” Chris stands with an eyebrow raised and follows her into the kitchen.

The adults exiting the room leaves the four teenagers alone. Isaac’s watching Allison and Stiles, and the same can almost be said for Scott, though his “watching” is more like glaring at Stiles and making sad puppy eyes at Allison. It’s ridiculous and Allison really is having none of it.

“Stop making that face, Scott. There’s nothing going on, you don’t need to look like you want to gnaw on Stiles. We’re just friends.” Allison pulls her legs up, planting her feet on the couch. She wraps an arm around her legs with a sigh. “Anyway, we’re not together, so you need to stop.”

Stiles sighs. “Okay, Alli’s totally right and it’s ridiculous to think that there’d be anything going on. You’re crazy and reading into things that aren’t even there. We’re just working closely to figure out what’s attacking people and I can’t handle you glaring at me all the time, okay? Scott, man, we’re bros, right?”

His expression softens slowly, and Scott sighs when Isaac pats his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Sorry guys. I know you’re not.. whatever, I just.. I guess I’m going a little crazy because this is taking so long.”

Allison’s expression softens and she nods her understanding. “I get it, I do. It’s driving all of us nuts to have it take this long to figure things out.”

Isaac speaks up. “Hey. Just. Ugh, can we not worry about who is or isn’t secretly dating and just work on getting through the bestiary and figuring out the new patrol schedule? Mom and Chris are talking about the milk versus water in hot chocolate and I think they’re both just being really nice about stalling to let us talk.” He runs a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught in the growing-out curls.

“No one is secretly dating anyone!” Stiles squawks.

“Oh hush, Stiles, and drink your hot chocolate.” Melissa returns and pushes a mug into his hands. “New patrol schedule needs to be discussed, right?” She gives another mug to Isaac and a third to Scott, while Chris hands one to Allison.

The delicious hot chocolate gets everyone’s mind off of the awkward, and the patrols start to get hashed out.

\---

“I… I think I know what’s attacking people.” Lydia says it slowly, still reading the book in her lap.

Stiles is across the room from her on his couch, with Allison to his left. He’s got a different book in his lap, and Allison has the iPad again. Her right hand is on the couch cushion between them, and the fingers of Stiles’ left hand are barely touching her wrist as they read. He jerks his head up when Lydia’s words sink it. “Well? Share with the class.”

Allison looks up as well, head cocked slightly to one side. “What’d you find, Lydia?”

“Incubus.” At their “tell us more” stares, Lydia continues. “Classically a demon in male form that has sex with sleeping women and can steal their life force.” She shrugs and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “I think it’s just another supernatural creature, like werewolves and witches and everything. Not actually a demon.”

“An incubus? What makes you say that?” Stiles pulls the iPad from Allison’s lap, knuckles grazing her thigh as he draws it to him. With a few taps he’s got the Google document with their fact sheet open on the screen. “Don’t incubuses kill their victims?”

“Not always. They can use them for a long time if they choose, or if they’re talented enough they won’t even harm the people they have sex with,” Allison says, surprising Stiles because he had expected Lydia to answer. She can feel Stiles staring at her and shrugs. “There’s an entry about incubi in the bestiary.” She smiles at Lydia as she stresses the proper way to say the plural of incubus and Lydia gives her a proud nod.

Lydia leans forward a little. “The reason I think it’s an incubus is that one of the police reports states that the victim said she remembers having really good sex and then waking up in the hospital, but it was just the one girl so we completely disregarded it as a point to reference.” She waves her hand. “Incubus is one of the few things that fits that, and there’s a huge thing about them in this book.”

“We should get your dad to talk to the other victims. See if they remember anything that fits.” Allison can’t stop smiling wide, glad to have a lead to follow.

With a matching grin of his own, Stiles nods. “I can definitely do that. Could you make up a good list of specifics about incubi?” He rolls his eyes as he emphasizes the way Allison said it. “And how to stop it from nearly killing people. We need to know that, too.” Stiles sighs. “I guess it’s time to talk to Deaton.”

“Can I borrow your computer?” Even as she asks, Lydia moves to grab the machine from the coffee table. “Why are you holding hands?” she questions, finally noticing the way Stiles’ and Allison’s hands rested so close together on the cushion between them.

Stiles jumps as though he’s been burned, snatching his hand away. He grips the iPad in both hands, attempting to play it off like that’s what he’d intended. “We weren’t.”

Allison rolls her eyes at him and looks at Lydia with a shrug. “You’re not going to get on us like Isaac and Scott, are you? There’s nothing going on between Stiles and me.”

Lydia shakes her head. “If you say so.” Her fingers speed along the laptop’s keyboard, writing up a bulleted list of questions for each victim to possibly better confirm their incubus assumption.

Mercifully, Lydia drops it after that, and they look up everything they can find about incubi while Stiles calls Deaton (not that he wants to call the cryptic emissary-slash-veterinarian, but someone has to do it).

\---

It takes Stiles’ father a few days to talk to a majority of the other victims, confirming that they all had some sort of sexual activity before waking in Beacon Hills Memorial. They don’t remember what their partner looks like, but they remember being attracted to him right away. It’s not much, but it is enough to give them a plan of attack.

Deaton gives them a powder to use on the incubus when they get him cornered, some emissary magic ground up herbs or something that will contain his powers or some other gibberish that they didn’t really get. Deaton assures them several times that it will work, and they’re counting on it. (Lydia says she understands completely, and that it makes sense, and that actually reassures them more thoroughly than Deaton’s attempts.)

The plan is simple. Everyone gets a little bit of the powder and they go to one of the bars that isn’t as thorough at carding people as Jungle, planting themselves around the place in hopes of the incubus picking one of them. Once they’ve got it rendered powerless, the goal is to get it out of the bar and to Deaton’s to be dealt with properly. Hopefully the plan is simple enough not to fail.

No one walks into the bar at the same time. Stiles is the only one inside with the girls; Isaac, Scott, and Chris Argent are strategically placed outside. Melissa enters first, insistent on being helpful in any way she can. A few minutes later Lydia enters in a short dress and heels that make satisfying sounds on the wood floors of the bar. Allison is last to go of the women to go inside, pretending to read an upsetting text before she stations herself at the far end of the bar.

Stiles watches the women, eyes flicking from his phone to Melissa at one side of the bar and Allison at the other, Lydia near the pool table looking like she might want to actually grab a cue stick and play. Its a cute look, engaging and encouraging the guys nearby to try and teach her how to play. Melissa is nursing a fruity drink and Allison’s got a soda, leaving them open for strangers to approach.

A fairly attractive guy, maybe a college sophomore or junior, approaches Allison within an hour of the group’s arrival at the bar. He’s tall and smiling softly at her. Stiles can’t hear what’s being said, but Allison responds quickly, a blushing smile showing off her dimples brightening her face in a matter of moments. He touches her bare forearm where it rests on the bar as Allison laughs at something he says.

Stiles can’t be sure, but from where he’s standing it looks like Allison’s eyes have gone a bit glassy. He reminds himself to wait for her signal before approaching. With fingers itching to grab the little packet of powder in his hoodie pocket, Stiles does his best to pretend not to be watching Allison and the guy who was obviously hitting on her.

Allison can’t help herself. She wants to get out of the bar and go wherever this guy wants to go. His touch is electric and his eyes are enchanting. The way he says her name, the way he speaks and moves his hands; Allison hangs on his every action. A small voice in her head, one that sounds strangely like Stiles, keeps trying to catch her attention. She ignores it for as long as she can, choosing to focus on the man in front of her until the voice starts to shout that something is wrong. It raises tiny hairs on the back of her neck as she tries to figure out if the way she’s leaning closer to the guy (Brad, the oddly smitten part of her mind supplies) is because she actually wants to or because something is making her.

As though some part of her knows what to do while the other parts are in a kind of thrall, Allison’s free hand sneaks into her coat pocket for the packet of powder Deaton gave her. It’s surprisingly easy to open the edge of the small paper envelope and flick the powder at Brad, spreading it all over the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the spell is broken. Allison frowns and hurries to step back. Brad stands before her, dumbstruck at her hasty retreat. He reaches for her again but Stiles is there, smacking his hand and exclaiming, “No, bad incubus! No touchy,” before he can even get close.

Lydia and Melissa are to the three of them within a minute, and Melissa tips her own powder over Brad’s head to make doubly sure that his powers won’t be available for a while. None of the other people in the bar even bat an eye as they usher Brad from the bar. Stiles sticks close to Allison’s side, needing to make sure she’s okay.

“Hey…”

“I’m fine, Stiles. It was more weird than anything.” Allison rolls her eyes as her father melts out of the shadows to take Brad from between Melissa and Lydia and force him toward the SUV waiting in the alley to take him to Deaton’s. She doesn’t notice her hand seeking Stiles’ to yank him into a hug. “You were in my head, and it was strange but it helped. Thank you.” She holds him close for a while, longer than is probably necessary or acceptable, until someone behind her clears their throat.

“Uh…” Scott, as eloquent as ever, rubs at the back of his neck as he watches them break apart. “We’re leaving for Deaton’s. Are you riding with Stiles then?” His voice is weird as he says it, like he’s not sure if he likes it or not but won’t say anything about it.

“I guess? I don’t really want to be in the SUV with the incubus.” Her skin is starting to crawl and she really wants a shower.

Stiles shrugs. “I can take her. And anyone else that wants to pile into the Jeep.” He can feel himself blushing at what he’s pretty sure Scott’s implying and all he wants to do is correct his best friend.

“You take Alli and we’ll cram into the SUV and my car,” Melissa replies with a smile. “Allison looks like she needs to be around as few people as possible right now, and I think we should get going anyway. C’mon, Scott.” She waves her son toward her as she starts walking backward toward the alley. Scott follows with a last look at Allison and Stiles.

They look at each other and Allison’s gaze flickers down to their still linked hands. She didn’t realize until just then that their fingers had tangled together when she pulled him into a hug, but they had and the evidence is right there in their still together hands. She lifts her hand, pulling his with it, until they’re at eye level.

“Is this a thing we do now?”

His eyes jump from their hands to her face and off toward the building in the distance over her right shoulder, never settling for long. “Um. Scott will kill me if it is.”

She responds softly, “Scott and I haven’t been dating for over a year.” She’s been over it for a while now, if she’s honest with herself and she wants to be. “We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”

“Scott’s like my brother, I can’t…” Stiles looks at her then, the firm set of her jaw and the hard edge to her gaze. “We haven’t been doing anything wrong. He’s just being wolfy about it.”

“We can just be friends, Stiles. We don’t have to…” She waves her free hand as if to encompass all the things they could do and what they could be to each other. “The pack balance is delicate still and we’re really good friends and I don’t want -”

“-to mess it up. Yeah, I know. I don’t either.” He rubs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. His hand squeezes hers. Stiles is about to say something when the “Imperial March” starts playing loudly from his pocket. He groans. “We should probably go to Deaton’s.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it. “Or not.”

Allison frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Your dad says Deaton’s got it handled and that we can go home. He’s sending Scott, Isaac, and Melissa home too.” Stiles thinks it’s weird, but he’s glad not to have to deal with Deaton’s whole cryptic vibe when his head is so messed up.

She tugs on his hand. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Stiles shrugs and pulls on her hand in return. “And I should get you home.”

They nod almost in unison and head toward the jeep, deep conversation about whatever they might be put on the back burner in favor of getting Allison home. Their hands separate for long enough to get into the jeep and rejoin to hang in the space between the driver and passenger seats.

\---

“You can date Allison if you want to.”

Stiles jerks so suddenly to the side that he bangs his head against the inside of his locker. That is not what he expects Scott to ever say to him. Ever.

Scott takes his silence for the confusion it is. “You guys are really close, and you make her smile and she keeps you focused. If you want to go out and she wants to go out, I think you should go for it.” He claps a hand against the back of Stiles’ shoulder.

“Uh…” Stiles is still lost. His head is still mostly inside his locker, and he doesn’t want to move away from it and actually see Isaac laughing at him - hearing him do it is bad enough. The decision is taken out of his hands as Scott pulls him from the locker and levels a serious face at him.

“I know it’s weird, because I dated her and everything, but if she makes you happy, don’t let me stand in the way, okay? I don’t want to be that kind of dick. I don’t want to be a dick at all, to be honest.” Scott’s face goes from serious to just plain sincere with a hint of puppy eyes.

“Oh my god. You are ridiculous with your face right now. Isaac, distract him so I can get my books and go to class.” When Isaac just stands there, Stiles heaves a sigh. “Thanks for the permission, Scott, but I don’t think anything’s going to happen between me and Allison. And that’s fine. Things were getting weird.”

Isaac laughs and Scott has the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry. The wolf does stupid shit and gets territorial over the dumbest things. Not that Allison’s dumb, far from it!”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Scott,” says Isaac, patting Scott’s shoulder.

Scott nods quickly. “Okay, yeah… Sorry again. Stiles, you know you’re my brother. I don’t think there’s much you can do that could even possibly make that stop.” He takes a deep breath. “Do what makes you happy.”

Stiles turns back to his locker, digging out the three textbooks he needs for the day. It’s been a week since Brad the Incubus gets shifted off to another state to learn control of his powers and things are quiet. Nothing else has happened yet, and it’s nice. “Shut up, Scott,” Stiles sighs.

Scott claps his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, light and brotherly. “Whatever you decide, it won’t affect the pack or anything.”

“Thanks for putting that in my head, asshole,” grumbles Stiles without heat. He and Allison haven’t talked about much of anything since the night they caught the incubus, though they have hung out.

Isaac copies Scott, hand landing on Stiles’ shoulder when he finally steps away from his locker. “Don’t know if it helps or hurts, but Lydia’s been spreading that you’ve been secretly dating for weeks.”

His mouth falls open and Stiles trips over his own feet as they head toward English; the only reason he doesn’t face plant is Scott’s quick grip on his arm. That’s probably going to bruise. “What! No. Not even remotely cool. The exact opposite of cool.” He shakes off Scott’s hand and struggles to get his phone from his pocket. He fumbles it and almost drops it.

“Stiles? You okay?” Allison leans down a little to look at his face where he’s staring at the screen of his phone, thumbs rapidly tapping out a text message.

Stiles jerks his head up, startled. “Alli!”

She frowns at him, and Scott and Isaac continue on toward their English classroom. “Stiles,” she says again. Her hand goes to his automatically.

“He-ey Allison.” Stiles shoves his phone back into his pants pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that Isaac or Scott told you about Lydia telling people we’ve been dating.” Allison sighs and pulls him down a side hallway. “I can make her stop.”

Stiles glances to either side to make sure they’re alone. His voice is low, cautious as he asks, “Do you want her to stop?”

Allison sucks her lower lip between her teeth, chewing lightly at it as she thinks. Their hands are still connected, and she shifts her grip to link their fingers together. “No?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” he asks, thumb running lightly along the side of her index finger. Stiles forces himself to breathe calmly, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

She looks down at their joined hands, goose bumps rippling into existence up her arms. “I don’t want her to stop. Do you?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t.”

“That means…”

“It does.”

Allison smiles slowly until she’s grinning with her dimples on full display. “It’s going to be weird.”

“I’m okay with weird.” Stiles can feel a grin pulling at his own mouth to match hers. “Weird is my unofficial middle name, you know.”

Gently, Allison pulls him closer by their linked hands. Her boots put them at nearly the same height, and she moves up onto her toes and leans in. “I’m okay with weird, too,” she whispers in the small space between them. Her eyes meet his for a second, giving him time to pull away before her eyes flutter shut and she closes the distance between them.

Stiles’ eyes widen momentarily before closing as their lips meet. The kiss lasts just long enough to feel the shape of each other breathe and notice the warmth of their mouths before they break apart, grinning. “Weird.”

“That’s a word for it.” Allison pokes his ribs with her free hand as she steps back. “Guess we don’t have to deny the rumors.”

He bats at her poking hand. “Yeah.” The warning bell rings above them and Stiles flinches at the sound of it. His mind drifts for a second, thinking about how he just kissed his best friend’s ex-girlfriend. Stiles reminds himself that Scott said it was okay.

“We should get to class.” Allison turns to head down the hallway and pulls Stiles with her.

He goes easily, still thinking. They get to where they need to split off – Stiles to his English class and Allison to her math class – when a thought strikes him. “Oh my god, I have to meet your father as your boyfriend.”

Allison squeezes his hand and pushes him toward his class. “We’ll deal with that when it happens.”

Her laughter follows him down the hallway.


End file.
